Paint The Picture Right
by im-an-amazingdan-fan
Summary: A terrible secrect which you managed to hold away for 5 years, after starting afresh, has come back to haunt you. Your fears start to come ring true, as you try and cover the terrible secret of your past from your closest friends. A secret, which can only end in regret. Warning: mention of drug use/abuse, reference to drugs.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

* * *

My fingers shook. I'm not scared though.

If I shook, maybe it would hurt more. I don't want it to hurt, no one else ever gets hurt. Or they don't make it look that way. My mum does, but they all want _that_ feeling.

That feeling I lust. _It looks so… Indescribable._

The house is silent. And Cold. Everyone sleeps. Everyone. The deathly sleep.

I don't get to know what that is. Until now, with more than curiosity boiling over me. _What do they feel? Everything… Nothing? I need to know._

The door in front of me, it has always creaked so loudly. Anyone outside of their fix would surely hear it.

The door has no panels, someone's fit of rage made sure or that. I thanked them as I slipped through the gap, and into mum's bedroom – where it will surely be. Mum didn't make it to bed again. Her sheet-less bed was empty, just a saddened mattress on the floor.

Her evening fix was laying ready on the floor. I knew she wouldn't normally leave it there – last night was busy, she might have just made some more downstairs. It was almost calling my name. My opportunity wouldn't come as easy as this again.

I grabbed the opportunity and sat in the windowsill in the light of the streetlamp.

I'd seen it a thousand times. Heard ways to do it effectively. I knew what to do.

It's easy.

* * *

 **9 years later.**

"Jenny! Coffee, Almond milk, double caramel syrup, please,"

"Coming up!" I called back, not even glancing over my shoulder for a moment. I knew who ordered this. Treble caramel syrup it is.

"I saw that!" Yelled Martha playfully.

"Saw what? I am offended!" I called back over the busy evening rush. The whole store was packed, an endless stream of disgruntled customers drenched in that sad, soggy snow that fails all expectations. It doesn't even settle properly. Martha huffed and called out the next order, just as I had placed his drink on the end. He took it with his usual smile, not that I managed to look.

These Saturday evenings were normally the busiest – the café is outside a large bus stop, and we stay open later near Christmas to pull in more profits from those waiting to go home after a long day working or attacking the Christmas high street bustle. We do evening deals, deals for uniforms of every kind, free drinks on large orders, everything you could want at the end of the day. The end results? A queue through the door and two overworked baristas. However, I must admit they are my favourite, as the hustle and bustle let the time fly by, and before I know it, the clock hits seven pm and it's time to clock off and go home – almost.

I say my usual goodbyes to Martha and stroll out the office with my bag and coat, boots in toe. Caramel coffee is sitting in the corner, his nose in the depths of twitter.

"You know, you don't have to wait all that time for me, I'm very capable of walking home…" I slump into the bench, tired feet aching.

Dan snorts, placing his phone in his pocket and sipping the last mouthful of his now cold coffee.

"What, and let you get yourself into some situation in this weather? I don't think so." My head shot up in fear.

 _How does he know? I never told him, he couldn't have found out… could he? Ive not touched that stuff for years, there's no way!_

"What do you mean?" my voice quivered, trying to act as natural as possible.

"Well given your track record," he sighed, " I do believe someone as unbalanced as you has no hope in all this wet weather, and that's before you end up being slashed by a car – or worse, a bus" Dan lifted his empty cup, and pretended to shower me in coffee, which I shot back in my seat and laughed a little too loud. _He doesn't know, thank god._

"Right, well seeing as its bitter cold and wet out there, I believe I need to be escorted back home, so I can at least crumble into my bed again" I mumble, feeling the tiredness tug on my eyes.

We both stood up, and entered the brisk, cold night. Wind rattled the street signs, whistling against the windows and pulling little loudly down the street. I was always glad of someone walking me home at this time of the year; not even Christmas could make my journey home less frightening. The slushy snow smacked us in the face, making for a biting cold walk.

"Phil's still in bed, I'm guessing" I enquired sympathetically, already knowing the answer to that question. Dan had come alone this time last week as opposed to the both of them and had mentioned that Phil felt under the weather and wasn't feeling well enough to be out in the cold. He sounded like he was coming down with the flu, and wasn't getting much better,

Dan shook the blue carrier bag, nodding. "He's got no voice and still looks as bad as he sounds. Thought a top up on medical supplies may be needed if it carries on, especially if I start to come down with the plague." I naturally took a step away, laughing and covering my mouth. "Oh ha ha, I'm not contagious yet so I think your safe,".

Almost as if time had skipped, we were at the start of the tower flats. My flat was in the end building, right down at the bottom of the street. I looked over at Dan, who read my mind almost instantly.

"I'm fine from here-"

"No you're not, I'll walk you to your-"

"Honestly I'll be okay from here just-"

"Jennifer, I'm walking you to your door and that's that." Dan finished. I might have lost this one.

"Fine, but I promise you I'm okay, I'd rather Phil had his lozenges than you walk me down." Dan laughed, stuck his tongue out at me and took one large stride ahead, my own small legs almost jogging to keep up.

Within moments, I was pressing the code in to open the entrance door, and turned to Dan, smirking.

"Enjoy the cold walk home while I wrap myself up in the duvet" I laughed, his faced peaking smile.

"Just remember, you've got 6 flights of stairs to tackle, I've only got the one." He turned on his heal, giggling away.

"Text me when you get home safe, please?" I raised my voice slightly against the wind. Dan turns his head back and nods, raising a hand to wave all the while walking away.

It was only when I looked around that I realised the street wasn't completely dead.

A man stood at the corner of the flat across the street from me, barely visible but definitely there. Staring at me. I let the door slam shut, and race up the stairs, and careering strait through my apartment, to the window that looks down on the man.

He is looking at my window. He looks away and walks to the following corner. I finally let my breath go, feeling my heart pounding and my head spinning. My backpack hit the floor as I pull the blinds over.

But now it has peaked my interest.

There's no mistaking what he is.

 _And there's only so long an addict can resist._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

* * *

 _I'm outside my mums' door._

 _The cheap mdf covers the holes in the door lightly enough for me to pry off and climb through. I've grown since the last time I did that, as my back scraped against the sharp edges of the remaining door and crunched loudly. The room was so much darker than I remembered. I couldn't make out the objects in front of me. Ahead was a small sliver of light, shining dimly through the tattered curtains. If I could just make it there, I could see what I was doing._

 _My feet shuffled slowly, knowing there could be anything on the floor; my mum never had the common courtesy to tidy after her use. It made navigating rather dangerous. If only I could reach the window, I could be more careful._

 _The light stretched further away from me, as the room turned into a stretched corridor. It was moving so far away, so fast. I had to reach that window._

 _My shuffle became a brisk walk._

 _Then a jog._

 _Then a run._

 _Before I knew it, I was sprinting with my arm outstretched, fingertips only inches from the resting curtains. My breath was pitching and catching on the rearing stitch hitting my side. My feet crumbled over the numerous littered items until I hit something soft and came tumbling down face first. My hand grasped the curtain, yanking it from the rails and crashing to the floor ahead of me._

 _Suddenly, the room filled with the dim yellow light, glaring across the reinstated square room. A room no longer my mums, with no mattress crowded by litter and sharps. Now a room quite empty._

 _Apart from something soft._

 _Something warm._

 _Something not moving._

I awoke with a startling gasp.

The stitch was still digging deep into my ribs, and my breath was laboured. The room span as I pulled myself up and stood before getting steady, taking the empty glass from the side into the bathroom.

 _Let's not think about what just happened._

Sundays is always my favourite day of the week. Not just because the café doesn't open either, but I spend every day with people all day long. I just want me time. Anti-people time. And Sunday is my absolute ultimate unsocial day. I get to do the things I want, I get to chill, read, eat, drink. Just about anything I want. Gulping the water, I pulled my duvet straight off my bed and into the living room and slumped on the sagged sofa. _I really need a new one._

Of course, by the end of the day, I've had enough of my own company. I feel as if I should be doing _something._ Making a coffee. Taking an order. Food shopping. Just anything. Its normally by this time of the day that I feel the need to go out and do something just, so I don't go insane with myself.

Today just feels different. I already feel like I've gotten sick of my own company and could do anything just to be doing something worthwhile. Talking to anyone I can see. The first person I see. I remember the man from last night automatically. _Okay, maybe not the first person I see._

I've only been awake for 10 minutes.

Getting dressed, I decided today would be different. Maybe Sunday wouldn't be so antisocial.

As I exited the flat, I walked around onto the next street before walking ahead.

* * *

Ringing the doorbell for what felt like the hundredth time, I get ready to give up and walk away when my phone pings out loud.

 _Is it you rattling the door_ read Dan's text.

 _Let me in_ I replied. Okay, I was a little bit early, even for me.

Almost 10 minutes later, Dan pulled open the door, wrapped in his duvet with his eyes nearly shut, sleep still cornering his eye.

"Morning!" I started, only to be replied to with a humph and beckoned in. We went into the living room and both slump on the sofa, sighing simultaneously.

"What on _earth,"_ Dan asked with a slight crackle in his voice "compels you to be awake at eight in the morning. Like, I thought you slept all day Sunday." I turned to face him and laughed heartily.

"Its called a body clock dear usually happens when you have an actual job working shift." I retort playfully. I wait to see the reaction on his face, one of fake offence and smugness.

"Hmm, joys of sleeping in and working whenever you like…" he closed his eyes and rested his head back onto the sofa, smug definitely written across his face. After a few seconds, his head lolled over and he opened his eyes, looking directly at me.

"So… what's up?" I stare blankly at him, waiting for him to explain. "Like… why are you here? You never come out on a Sunday, not even for games. What brings you here?"

"Well, I normally like my Sundays like I have my coffees – alone and in peace. But I didn't want to do that today for whatever reason. So I did what I thought was best when I didn't want o to stay in, and come round to annoy you." I jumble my answer into one long breath.

Dan nodded, clearly trying to unfog a sleepy head.

"What do you want to do? Play some games? Sleep some more?" he snuggled right into his duvet some more. "My duvet is telling me what to do, but I'm sure I can ignore it a little…" He looked at me, obviously hoping for an answer that would help him remain in his cocoon of bedding for the rest of the day.

"Well," I started sarcastically, "I hear Sunday is the best day to do everything outdoors. So I say, grab Sunday by the balls, and let's go for a good old shopping spree."

Dan glared questioningly. "I'm joking."I laughed whilst reaching and missing a playful punch in the arm. "Honestly, do you really think I want to be out there at this time of the year? You're having a laugh." I retorted, pulling away from my thick jumper. "Nah, your central heating warms me up just nice…" I smile.

"I'll turn it off if you're not careful," he challenged jokingly.

"And I'll open the windows for good measure."

"Deal?"

"Deal."

We both slumped back properly, Dan offering me a part of his duvet as we settled into a Sunday classic movie.

I couldn't help but glance out the window, searching for that man.


End file.
